


Brand new

by angrylamb



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrylamb/pseuds/angrylamb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran and Moriarty meet for the first time. (before season one.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brand new

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever publishing fanfiction, so please do tell me what you think!
> 
> I solemnly swear no betas or britpicks were harmed in the making of this fanfiction.

Sebastian Moran had had a successful day. For a professional hitter that meant a job done well and the money paid without a fight. It's surprising how many people try to blackmail or fool a man who kills for a living, but there was always a way to convince them money was Important. Sometimes the extra cost was just a finger or two.

The hitter was just about to start his bike to head back home and to perhaps grab some chinese on his way when his phone rang. Sebastian cursed under his breath, took off his helmet, digged the phone out of his chest pocket and answered without checking the caller ID – there was no need to, his work number was only known by his colleagues and employee. “Moran.” he grunted – making sure the person in the other end could tell how unapproved the call was from his tone.

“I have a job for you, Sebby!” chirped an unfamiliar voice, making Moran's head ache not only by the misuse of his name but by the sound of the voice. “It's Moran,” he corrected, glancing at the mobile's screen to see the number was unknown before continuing, “and I'm done for the day, try again tomorrow.”  
He got the phone off his ear, wondering how the hell they got his number and whom he should decapitate for that, and was about to end the call, when the answer made him raise the phone again “Oh, but Seb! Your boss missed you terribly, he just kept telling me to call you, and I feel like I can still hear his voice, even though he's dead already! Funny that, ain't it Sebastian?” the man giggled, “Now I just had to call you, because he had such faith in you, believed you'd come and rescue him. Were you two shagging or something?” The voice started out matter-of-factly, but towards the end he sounded actually interested, like the thought had just occurred to him. “But of course you were – silly me.” He continued without waiting for a reply. “And lucky you, I must say! He was a rather handsome one before my boys got their hands to him. His own mother wouldn't recognize him now. Which was rather the point, I have to admit.” He finished smugly.  
Sebastian decided to ignore the man's guesses, that were actually spot on, but that was none of their business, and focus on the fact that apparently he was now unemployed. “What kind of job are we talking about?” he inquired instead, figuring he might as well try to get as much money out of the man as he could before killing him. Not out of rage, he hadn't cared much about his former boss, despite the fling they'd had, but even hired killers have their pride.

“Whatever I tell you to do, Sebastian dear.” The man's voice had a devilish tone to it all of a sudden, and the change made Moran straighten on his bike. “You work for me now. And your first assignment is to drag your arse in here and to do exactly as I say.” Then, without any further ado, the man hung up and Sebastian was left staring at the phone in slight amazement.  
His mind circled around what had just happened, and he realised he actually liked this man, whoever he might be, and that he might just do as he was told. He didn't try to make sense to the thought and just worked on instinct, as he had learnt was for the best on most cases, when he put the mobile back to his pocket, his helmet on and started the bike to head to his boss' office where he figured he would find his brand new employer.

-

It turned out Moran was right about the whereabouts of the other man. When he finally turned his bike to the innocent looking parking lot behind several office buildings, he noted three expensive looking black cars parked near the doors, one of them belonging to his now apparently deceased boss. He left his bike to the furthest corner from the cars and opened the duffel bag he had been carrying over his shoulder to get out his Beretta, before heading towards the offices with his helmet under his left arm and the pistol in the other hand. Better safe than sorry, as his mother used to say before she blew up.

When inside, Sebastian made his way through the hallways without meeting a soul. For an ordinary office that would have been normal at two in the morning, but this building was filled with the criminal underground that did not sleep during the night, if it slept at all. The quietness made Seb feel on the edge, and he wondered a while whether he should take the stairs instead of the lift to get to the 7th floor where his boss' office was located, before deciding there wasn't much he could do even if the man had decided Moran was best off dead. So lift it was.

-

Once the doors of the lift opened again, Sebastian was greeted with a rifle aimed at his chest. “Out of the lift”, the woman at the better end of the gun ordered, moving the barrel a bit to her side to show him the correct direction. “And drop those.”  
The man didn't feel like he had much of a say on the matter, so he did as he was told, dropping the helmet and laying his Beretta more gently to the ground, before moving to the direction he was led to. He walked straight to his boss' office and stopped at the doorframe, letting the sight sink in.

The room had been completely emptied, and his former boss lay on the centre of it, pieces of him missing. Moran had the time to register seven fingers, an ear, half of the scalp as well as half a dozen stab wounds before he heard the now familiar voice from behind him. “I think I might need to let you know I do not like to be kept waiting, my dear.” The man sounded awfully relaxed for a comment like that, and Sebastian turned slowly to face his new employer.

To his surprise the man was young, perhaps a few years younger than Moran himself, and actually rather handsome. He found himself wondering what he was like in bed, but quickly chased such thoughts out of his mind, and focused on his current situation instead. “I'm sorry, Mister...” he started, but paused, waiting for the man to tell him his name.

“Moriarty. James Moriarty. But you can call me Jim.”, Moriarty grinned very shark-likely and Moran felt a knot forming in the bottom of his stomach. He swallowed before continuing. “Right, Mr.... Jim. I were on the other side of London. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Jim's grin grew even wider, if possible, and he brushed past Sebastian to step in the room, walking right to the edge of the blood that had spread under the body of the dead man. “Do not do that again, Sebastian,” Moriarty chimed, “and now, tell me, what was the job this man ordered you to do tonight?”

Moran couldn't say he was surprised about the question, his last job had been the assassination of a local underground boss – that had been quite a deal and Sebastian had been the only one with the ability to do it – and there had been rumours about why the deal had been accepted in the first place. Mostly amongst the female hitters, mind you, and Seb really hadn't bothered to pay attention. Now he wondered if he should have.

“It was a well paid job,” He grunted in reply to the man, rubbing his eyes. “Fifty grand just for agreeing to take the job! And 150 more when it was done. I should have known it was too good to be true.” He chuckled to himself, staring at the corpse. “So I shot Adam Connelly, and it wasn't an easy one either. But successful. What the fuck do you want to know?” He walked across the room, following the line of blood before stopping opposite of Jim, who smiled slightly with his hands in his pockets and rocked back and worth on the spot like a bored 5-year-old.

“That's exactly what I wanted to know. I already knew Connelly was dead, I knew the second you pressed the trigger. I even knew who had ordered the job. But what I didn't know was who had done it. Who had the guts to kill a man with half of London under his thumb, and several bodyguards keeping him safe. Who had the ability to do that. And who was stupid enough.” Jim wandered around the blood puddle, just like Moran had done before, as he talked and stopped next to Sebastian, closer than the older, and taller, man found comfortable in the situation. “Because, sweetie, this man owed me a remarkable sum of money. More than the prize you got off of killing him. More than your boss here owed me. Which was quite the sum on itself”, Moriarty breathed to Sebastian's neck, sending chills down his spine, “And I think I've found just the man to pay for those debts. Now I already have the money your boss got out of this deal, but there's hell of a lot more to pay. And that's why you're working for me now.” Jim had to rise to his toes just to whisper the last sentence straight to Seb's ear, and the hitter didn't know if he found it amusing or not.

“So I'm working for you without getting anything out of it”, he answered after deciding the situation probably wasn't the best for laughing to a short madman. “And how do you think I'm supposed to make a living?”

“Oh, Sebastian, don't be so daft! You'll be my personal bodyguard, surely that means you'll stay with me at all times, you won't need to make a living,” Moriarty said, swinging his head slowly from side to side to emphasise his words. ”Now get the car keys off of that corpse and drive me home, I've had a long day and I want a bath.”

Jim pranced off the room, and with a snap of his fingers the floor was suddenly empty except for the two of them.

“I except to be home before sunrise, so move your arse or I'll reconsider my job offer and have you turned into shoes and a matching bag instead... or perhaps a wallet. I really need a new one,” he added from the door before ordering the lift, which' doors opened immediately and the man stepped forward to stand in the way of them closing again. “Can you please not be so dull, I was under the impression that you're more fun that this. Either get into the lift and take your gun and the keys with you, Moran, or wait here till I blow the place up.”

The younger man's impatience made the sniper feel like a parent taking care of a kid, but yet again Sebastian found himself oddly pleased to take orders from him. So despite his sense of pride he fished the car keys off the pocket of the body and followed the man to the lift, taking his place next to him.

“I always did want a live-in one,” Jim muttered much to himself, before pushing the button that would take them to the ground floor.

Sebastian didn't have anything to say to that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the awesome [Winga](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Winga/profile) for being the first to read this and giving me the push I needed to publish. And for correcting my English! If there's still some mistakes, it's definitely not her fault.
> 
> That being said, English is not my first language, so if you did see some horrible mistakes, please do point them out.
> 
> There could be more coming?


End file.
